


Marrow

by k8sfic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k8sfic/pseuds/k8sfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for tamlane's prompt at hp_harlequin's Valentine's Day Comment Fest.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Marrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tamlane's prompt at hp_harlequin's Valentine's Day Comment Fest.

"Oh, my."

I flinch and exhale, startled by the soft exclamation and the rich floral perfume that blooms in its wake. There hadn't been the usual sounds of someone arriving, whether through the Floo or by Apparition, or even a door opening and closing. I turn my head towards the woman, even as I know it's useless to do so under the spell Luna placed on me.

The world is black—as black as ink. The sort of harsh purity you only find in the actual color, as if someone had scrawled a black nothingness across my eyes. I'd expected something less consuming, less intense, perhaps my eyesight blurring or my brain scrambling the facial features of my blind date. Not this … vulnerability. This complete and utter certainty that the sense I rely on the most to interpret the world around me, to guide my actions and reactions, is gone.

For a moment, my contained panic overwhelms me, escaping in a violent mutiny against my control, racing lightning-fast through my bloodstream. I pull frantically at the cotton-soft rope binding my wrists together, nearly upsetting my balance as my knees slip across the floor, the fine fabric of my suit trousers sliding easily across what feels to be hardwood floors. I wonder what insanity possessed me to listen to Luna, to accept her Valentine's Day gift—though I'd been expecting something like chocolates or a card. I'd been lulled by the grounding influence Neville's had on her over the years, I suppose.

_It's what you've always wanted_ , she had said, as she'd kidnapped me right from my office in the Manor, somehow bypassing the thick layer of wards. _There are safeguards built in, and it's mutual. Consider it a blind date._

A whispering touch to my hair, so light I feel only the impression of movement, of presence. "Sh, Mr Malfoy."

I shudder and still, somehow reassured by the reminder that there is someone else in the room. That I'm not alone as well as blinded. My mouth is tacky and dry, but my pounding heart starts to slow, my breath evening to a regular rhythm. There really was no cause for such dramatics, I know; however flighty Luna can be, she would never leave me vulnerable to humiliation or to the cruelty in a stranger's hands. Despite this realization, I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment, knowing this stranger—this woman—saw me in a moment of weakness. I'd made it a point in the almost three decades since the War to present nothing less than utmost confidence in my actions; anything to hide my true cowardice, the guilt that eats at me for actions which can be forgotten, but never forgiven.

I duck my chin away from the woman.

A soft murmuring, like rain pattering on a roof, disappointment drumming in the background. The woman moves closer, around to my side, and her knee nudges against my upper arm. Accidental or deliberate? My temporary blindness and her unknown identity serve to leave me floundering, standing on shaky ground, uncertain where to place my next step. She raises my head up, turning it back towards her with two fingers under my chin. Fingertips smooth themselves over my flushed cheeks, skin catching on skin, and there's a gentle suggestion of calluses; born from writing or Quidditch, I'm unsure as of yet.

"Why are you embarrassed, Mr Malfoy?" the woman chides.

When I don't answer quickly enough, the fingertips hovering at my cheekbones withdraw. My left earlobe is pinched a moment later, and I jerk, startled. My cock twitches to life in my trousers.

"I've been told you know how this works," the woman says sternly. "Answer my question, please."

"Who are you?" I ask instead, knowing I might only incite her anger. I'd been in a few situations—mostly in the beginning, when I was too desperate and naive—where I was left bruised and bloodied, a wrecked man staggering home in sloppy Apparition jumps. Too fucked up to be fully cognizant of the Splinching I was flirting with. Too fucked up to care at all, really.

The woman retreats so fast my hair flutters, the slight draft causing me to shiver, my nipples peaking beneath my dress shirt. I mourn the loss of her body heat in a way I'd never admit aloud, unless prompted to do so. "You don't know who I am?" The woman clucks her tongue, and I can almost see her shaking her head in my mind's eye. "Well, of course not. You've said as much, haven't you? And you wouldn't have any reason to lie to me."

"No," I say, shifting on my knees to ease their ache. "I wasn't told anything until I was already kidnapped."

The woman's footsteps click away, ringing hollow against the floor. She must be wearing heels of some sort; thin, by the sound of them: delicate and light. "Kidnapped? Aunt Luna told me this was consensual, or at least, that you'd agreed to this."

" _Aunt_ Luna?" I ask, stressing the part most interesting to me.

"Yes. It's Rose Weasley, Mr Malfoy."

Her answer hits me like a herd of hippogriffs. I try to parse the words and understand them. Rose Weasley. _Rose Weasley_. As if repeating it might somehow make it less bewildering. "What?" I finally choke out.

I hear fabric rustle a few feet in front of me, and my eyes flick back and forth, searching in vain for something to fix on. "Clearly, we've come into this with different expectations," Rose says, and her tone is more reserved, less intimate, than it has been. My chest inexplicably tightens. "Let's start from the beginning, shall we? Why are you here, Mr Malfoy?"

I frown. If there's one thing I know about Rose, it's that she was one of the smartest witches in her class. Scorpius complained often enough about losing top marks to her. "I told you, I was kidnap—"

"No."

My mouth snaps shut, and I tense at the sound of her approach. _Click, click, click._ Rose comes to a stop directly in front of me. I imagine she's close enough that I can feel her shoes nudge against my knees.

"Aunt Luna doesn't kidnap people willy-nilly. She must have had good reason." Fingers brush a few escaped strands of hair off my forehead. I swallow against the urge to lean into the whispering touch. "You can cast wandlessly, I'm sure; well enough to escape your bonds. Being blind doesn't rob you of your ability to feel your way around the room and out the door." I feel her shadow fall over me, her hair tickling my temple as it tumbles and slides to rest on my shoulder, the heat of words breathed into my ear. "The truth, Mr Malfoy. That is all I ask. Why are you here?"

Desire skitters down my spine, and I shudder from the strength of it. "I'm not—I don't know," I say, flustered by the crack in my voice, my fingers twisting, tightening upon themselves with the need to fidget.

Rose sighs, and I turn my head from her again as she stands, unable to face her disappointment, even blind. "A half-truth, then," Rose says, and I hunch my shoulders beneath the weight of her tone. "Perhaps I'm pushing you too hard."

Her footsteps slowly click around me. I hear her moving, shifting, and then something impacts the floor just behind me, vibrating up through my legs. I catch myself from startling when I feel nimble fingertips dance around my wrists, the flicks and scrapes and delicate touches as she unbinds my wrists. The rope hisses in protest, rasping against itself, before it falls to lay coiled upon my socked toes.

I've only begun to form the thought to move, to stretch out the kinks, when she taps the cufflinks of my dress shirt, and I understand. "Don't move, please, Mr Malfoy," she says. There's a fleeting caress to the palm of my right hand, the tingling soothed by a fingernail's sharp scrape. My fingers twitch in response, and it's as if they're tugging on a direct line to my cock, which swells further.

And then Rose leans forward, reaching around me, and _moving_ is the furthest thought from my mind because her breasts are now pillowed against my back, nipples pricking my shoulder blades. They feel rather small, smaller than Astoria's generous handful certainly, but their softness and inherent sensuality … I flex my shoulders, just to feel her nipples roll over muscle and bone. Fuck, if only I could see them, see their outline through whatever top she's wearing. My mouth waters as I think about all the things I want to do to them: mouth them through her clothing, suck and nibble and flick them with my tongue. I imagine her wearing a button-down; I imagine myself taking the time to undo the buttons with my teeth, nuzzling aside the material to rub my cheek against her sternum. Open-mouthed kisses to the gentle underside of a breast and the occasional nip to hear her gasp.

"Answer me this, Mr Malfoy," she says, jolting me from my fantasies. Her chin is resting on my shoulder, her breath wafting around the curve of my neck. There's an odd tension on the front of my dress shirt, and it takes me a few seconds to realize she has her fingers set to unbutton it. "Why are you still here?"

I frown and open my mouth, but Rose makes a quelling noise, and I promptly close it.

"I want you to think it through, Mr Malfoy." Her nose brushes my earlobe as she talks, and I shiver, the hairs on the back of my neck rising unbidden, anticipation and desire pooling low in my gut, stiffening my cock until it's straining against the placket of my trousers. "I don't enjoy mindless submission, or the lack of self-awareness that comes with it. And since I suspect we've had very different experiences with this sort of thing, I'll help you out a bit." A finger slips through a gap between buttons and strokes my chest. "The easier question is: what is keeping you here, Mr Malfoy?"

I'm bizarrely grateful for that stroking finger, focusing on its repetitive touch to momentarily ignore the desire thrumming through my cock. Each caress brings more clarity to my thoughts, like a horse being gentled to a new owner. After the seventh pass, I'm soothed enough to think her question through.

My wrists are now unbound, the length of rope puddled on my toes. I rub a thumb over one of my wrists, unsurprised when I feel no mark from the rope; it hadn't been tied tight enough to hold me—only to provide the illusion of bondage, of security. Even if Rose hadn't released me, I could've easily escaped with some care and thought to the process.

So, if the rope wasn't keeping me here, what was? I briefly consider my blindness, the overwhelming blackness shrouding my vision, but immediately dismiss the thought. I'm grasping at straws now; there are innumerable ways to get around Luna's spell, not least of which is to simply Apparate back to the Manor. _The spell is location-specific_ , Luna had reassured me before she'd left. _It ends once you leave this room._

Rose, then. The only reason remaining to explain why I'm allowing this farce of a Valentine's gift to proceed. Her arms are warm, burning through the thin sleeves of my dress shirt, caging my own arms behind my back. But, that isn't entirely accurate, either, really. If I wanted, I could easily shrug her off. I don't have to allow her embrace and the fingers stroking my chest, or obey her polite command not to move. If I wanted, I could leave without a word between us and pretend this never happened at the next Potter-Weasley get-together I'm obligated to attend through Scorpius.

The only thing keeping me here, cock heavy with lust and anticipation burning through my veins … is me.

I stiffen, a wordless sound bursting from me like a prisoner escaping Azkaban, animalistic and desperate. For so long I'd been in denial about my appetites, never mind that I would choose to have a drink at a kink club instead of the perfectly good pub down the street. I told myself it wasn't me picking myself up with a proffered bottle of water and a thinly-veiled invitation; it wasn't me strapping myself to a spanking bench or a St Andrew's Cross, receiving the scorching heat of a Dom's hand to my arse, the kissing touch of a whip to my back. I couldn't be held responsible for what was done to me.

Fuck, I'd been no better than that myopic git Potter, unable to see what was clearly before me.

Warm breath gusts over my ear, rolling across my cheek like the fog on a shore; a feminine chuckle which Rose does nothing to cover. Her confident amusement reaches deep into my chest, twisting it tight until I think it might shatter like brittle glass. A bead of sweat meanders down my temple. "I see you've found your answer. What is it, then, hm? Tell me. What is keeping you here, Mr Malfoy?"

I clench my jaw, chewing on my chagrin until it's a churning ball on my tongue, coating my mouth in an ashen, metallic flavor. For some reason, though I've finally admitted my desires to myself, I can't find the strength to push the necessary words out. I know I only need to answer her question to have everything I never knew I was seeking, but they sit in my throat, fully formed and flitting about like Snitches trapped in a broom closet.

"I read a book once," Rose says, apropos of nothing. The finger still caressing my chest withdraws from my dress shirt, joined by her other hand as it slides up to wrap around my tie. Rose slowly begins to work at my tie with nimble, efficient movements. "It was science fiction, a Muggle novel I'd found left at a table in Flourish and Botts. I'm not sure how one can simply leave a book behind, but there you have it. And there was a line in particular, one which truly resonated with me." Another chuckle, then; light and fond and clearly directed towards herself. "I must have read it dozens of times in those first few minutes afterwards. Over and over again. Cradling the words close to my heart, repeating them until I could be certain they would never leave me."

My tie is hanging loose about my neck, but not undone. Her fingers are somehow expectant in their stillness, and I find myself swallowing the ash in my mouth, tongue darting out to wet my lips. "What—was it?" I ask, grimacing at the uncertainty in my voice. I clear my throat, and the next words come easier. "The line, that is. What was it?"

Rose nuzzles my ear, then licks the shell; quiet touches that feel like approval, that soak into my skin and loosen the brittle knot in my chest. "The burden of intelligence," she says wistfully, "you can always imagine all those wonderful places where you can never belong."

"Me," I say, and I'm on firm footing for the first time since being kidnapped and blinded. "You can belong to me."

I feel the curve of Rose's smile. "And there's your answer, Mr Malfoy."


End file.
